Song Suggestions:
Get Out Alive - Three Days Grace
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Akaashi

It isn't every day that an individual wakes up and feels the weight of a thousand tons crushing his body and heart. Akaashi moaned quietly, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his palms against his eye sockets. His bones and muscles throbbed with disappointment and it hurt to lie on his back from all the abuse the day before. He shifted his feet around, the metal of the chain on his ankle pinching his skin as it rattled ominously, like a snake beneath the sheets.

He could be dead—like actually dead. He sure as hell felt dead.

He rolled off the bed, avoiding sitting on the edge, and limped his way towards the refrigerator. He snatched a bottle of water out, pressing it to his dry lips and guzzled nearly half of it in one tilt. After screwing the cap back on, he sighed. What could he do now?

It isn't every day that an individual is kidnapped by an ex-boyfriend and forced to essentially be a sex slave. He blew a long breath out of his pursed lips, gathering himself once again. Although, he realized, he had no reason to. The ache of the ordeal had grown increasingly dull, each defeat more numbing than the one before. He could barely feel true anger, and the disappointment as frankly overshadowed by a chiding grandfather figure in his head that scolded him for even thinking it'd be possible to make it out in the first place.

He only ever mustered emotion when Teru was present, and he could find something to properly direct his brewing thoughts toward. He agonized over the idea that maybe, just maybe, he was developing sociopathic tendencies as a defense mechanism. On top of that idea, he began to become perturbed by his manifesting considerations.

Would he ever truly use the small weapons he tucked away? Previously, he couldn't even dream of hurting anything. Even in middle school when he was bullied incessantly he never turned to notions of violence.

Doubting his hold on his state of mind, he wondered if he'd lose his mind on Terushima.

He found his feet trailing him back towards the bed, where he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. Slowly, inching back to the small library of books, he muffled his thoughts.

"I ought to get work done," He muttered. "If I ever return to a normal life I'll sure as hell have missed a few deadlines. Onodera could probably strangle me right now, for putting myself in a position like this."

He selected a long tale of a man who wished to build a cathedral, and the prologue spoke of a man being hung before a crowd for wrongful reasons. He smirked a bit, relating himself to the words. Kuroo wished to build his own holy place, a place of silly animes and video games and endless guitars. Akaashi, sadly, was being hung.

He nearly dropped his book when the door creaked open and Yuuji's voice echoed through the quiet room.

"Keiji," Terushima said, his mouth drawn into a line as he gripped the knob. His eyes casted down, unable to look at Akaashi. "I'm so sorry."

Akaashi blinked in surprise, backing up towards the bed. "Yuuji, you're truly dreadful."

Teru flinched, the words sprinkling salt into his wounds. "I know," He shut the door behind himself, not bothering to lock it. "I deserve every cold word you throw at me."

Akaashi quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"It is."

"Well you're the most despicable bastard I've ever fucking met and I don't wish to be in your presence." Akaashi hissed, his chin raising regally as his voice deepened.

Yuuji pouted, stepping forward. "C'mon, Keiji, I'm not that bad, am I?"

Akaashi's mind worked silently, his words distracting Yuuji perfectly. He was a few feet away, when Akaashi turned his back. Keeping his eyes away from the ground, he nudged his chain forward with his foot ingeniously, the metal skidding right by the bed sheets. Yuuji didn't suspect anything, it just looked like Akaashi stumbled a bit. "Well, you aren't that bad, perhaps." He lied, facing Yuuji and languidly rolled his hand. The book slipped from his fingers, and he feigned bending down to pick it up. His eyes became distant and ice, glazing over as his mind shielded him from himself.

Deceiving volleyball idiots had always been his aptitude, but out of practice as he was, he still drew Yuuji into his spider's web beautifully. Teru stepped forward boldly, his arms wide open. He expected Akaashi's response to be stiff and pretend, he got something quite different and vastly unexpected.

"Then, hold me—" Terushima smiled warmly, but as Akaashi rose, his blanket fell away. Stepping into his swing, Akaashi flung his arms around, gripping the wooden chair leg tightly in his hands. It made solid contact, crushing into Teru's skull with enough blunt force that he fell instantly.

Akaashi tilted his head to the side unsympathetically. "Homerun?" He asked, leaning over Teru's corpse. "I do believe that's game."

He rolled his shoulders, before stonily searching through Terushima's pockets. Straightening up, he smiled at the key pressed between his fingers, before he carelessly plopped onto the ground to unlock his ankle to remove the pesky chain.

Logically, he should be in shock over killing a man for the first time. Maybe a bit guilty at the loss of life, of standing so cheerily before a lifeless body. Really, at the moment, it hardly processed.

Logically, he should be in shock.

Yet, logically, who could argue that he hasn't been in shock since the first moments of consciousness in the homely dungeon?

He couldn't help but stare at Terushima, prone and face against the ground. His vibrant yellow hair withered against his head and splayed on the ground by his forehead. He thought, for a moment at least, that he should check his pulse. He thought, for a moment, that perhaps he should change clothes. He thought, maybe, he would die out there certainly in the snow in the early morning.

He ignored his brain, gathering his personal affects before opening the door and stomping up the stairs.

He ignored all his pain, all his worries and thoughts. When he made it through the house once more with such incredible ease, he felt certain it would shatter and just be some sort of illusion. He felt certain in seconds after opening the front door he would wake in the bed from the basement, that Teru-fucking-shima Yuuji would snatch him by the collar of his thing shirt and drag him to the fiery pits of hell from his apparent grave.

His feet against the freezing wooden floor barely registered.

His fingers brushed the knob hesitantly. He stood before the door, almost scared to grab hold of his freedom due to the idea that god had forsaken him and he could never leave. His thin fingers slithered around the knob, his grip tightening until his hand shook and turned white.

He eased the knob to the side, dragging the heavy door open with a ferocious wind blowing it out of his hands, gusting his hair back and his clothes around enveloping him in the numbing freeze of winter air. His eyes burned, tears began to streak down endlessly, without warning. He didn't believe that it was real, that the bitter air could feel so sweet and welcomed in his lungs. He never thought about his nose feeling like it could fall off.

"All I feel is home," Akaashi breathed, wiggling his toes in the snow, before striding off to find a road.